In a Sentimental Mood
by deadeb03
Summary: Spike accepts a bounty job paid for by Vicious and risks being pulled back into the syndicate to answer questions about his past.
1. Chapter 1

In a Sentimental Mood

Chapter 1

"Where is he?"

Jet looked up from the bonsai tree he was shaping and frowned at Faye. "Would you mind not storming in like that when I'm working in here? I almost cut the wrong branch and ruined the whole thing."

"Where is Spike, Jet?" Faye persisted, jabbing a finger into his shoulder with each word.

"Not back yet," Jet answered. He bent over his tree once more, knowing Faye wouldn't get the hint. All he wanted was a little peace and quiet, and her presence was disturbing the serenity of his private sanctuary.

"You know what he did, don't you?" she accused. "You know he took that bounty right out from under my nose and now you're covering for him!"

"I don't know anything," he mumbled. He put the final touch on his bonsai and held it up for inspection. Not bad, but it still needed work. "Spike doesn't tell me what he's up to anymore."

Faye went to her room in a huff, leaving Jet rubbing his aching head. He wouldn't admit it to Faye, but he was worried about Spike. They'd been partners for years, and it wasn't the first time Spike kept his activities secretive. It was, however, the first time storming from the Bebop after threatening to kill Jet.

Jet knew coming back to Mars was a bad idea.

"I don't know, Ein." He gave the dog a pat before standing to stretch his tired muscles. "Something is really wrong here, but I have no clue what it could be. Maybe it's better that way."

Ein gave a short whimper of understanding and followed Jet to the kitchen. Tying on an apron, Jet searched through cupboards to decide what kind of meal he could put together with the meager supplies that were left. If Spike didn't come back soon, he was going to have to come up with another way to get some woolongs. He couldn't depend on Faye; she gambled away any bounty she earned. Ein checked his dish, but turned his nose up at the dry dog food piled there like a half-finished pyramid. Settling on a few licks of water, he left to find Edward.

"Must be nice," Jet called after him. "If we didn't get such a great deal on that crate of dog food, you wouldn't be so picky."

"I found you!" Ed shouted as Ein jumped onto the couch. She gave the Corgi a big hug and raised her virtual goggles to her forehead. "He's here, Ein! He's here! Yaaayy!"

"Who's here?" Jet asked from the doorway.

"Big bad bounty," Ed growled, crawling around her computer on all fours. Ein whined and hid his head under a pillow.

"Really? Who? Where?" Jet asked, hurrying over to read the monitor. If it was a quick enough catch, maybe they could afford real food tonight instead of something canned or packaged.

"Fifty million woolong guy!" Ed said, biting at Jet's pant leg.

Jet brushed her off and sat on the edge of the couch, careful to avoid landing on Ein. He wondered how his quiet ship had turned into such a zoo in so short a time. It almost made him long for the days he and Spike were on their own.

"John Doe? That's the big bounty?"

"Big bad bounty!" Ed agreed and dropped her goggles back in place. She reached up to the keyboard with her toes and punched up the bounty information for Jet.

"John Doe . . . fifty million woolongs . . . murder . . ." Jet eagerly scanned the biography, but paused when he got to the bottom. "Bounty paid for by . . . WHAT!?"

"Paid by Vicious!" Ed growled again, baring her teeth and clawing at the air.

"No way!" Jet said, getting up to head back to the kitchen. "I don't care how hungry I get, I am not about to go after a bounty paid for by that psycho!"

"Not you," Ed said. "Spike!"

"WHAT!?" Jet shouted again. He raised his voice even louder, his call reverberating all through the ship. "FAYE!"

"What?" Faye came in, dressed in a fluffy white robe and still towel drying her hair. She didn't flinch at Jet's yelling as she plopped herself down on the couch, sitting on Ein's tail. The dog yipped in pain and hopped down to the floor to take refuge under the table.

"What bounty were you after?" Jet demanded, towering over her, hands on his hips. "The one you said Spike took from you?"

"A lady bank robber," she answered with a roll of her eyes. "So of course he would find her faster than I would. Why do they always accuse women of using their looks when men are just as bad?"

"So it wasn't John Doe?" Jet's voice lost its thunder in a wave of relief. At least things weren't as bad as they could've been.

"No. Why?"

"I just thought . . . never mind," he said, rubbing his throbbing head. The pain hadn't gotten any better since Spike stormed out. And if Spike was involved with Vicious at all, Jet knew it was going to get a lot worse before it got better.

"Who's John Doe?" Faye asked.

"Big bad bounty!" Ed said and bit at Faye's bare leg. Faye kicked her off and leaned forward to see the computer screen better.

"Bounty? How much?" Greed shown in her eyes and Jet could just imagine how fast her mind was calculating the odds of the next horse race.

"Don't even think about it," Jet warned. "Take a look at the bottom line."

"Bounty paid by…" Faye's eyes flew open wide and her jaw dropped, "…Vicious?"

"So if you value your health, stay away," Jet said, heading back to the kitchen. "I just wish Spike had the sense to."

"Spike is going after a bounty paid for by his mortal enemy?" Faye asked in utter astonishment. "And you let him?"

"I didn't know. He hasn't been very…conversational…lately."

"Edward found John Doe for Spike," Ed said climbing on top of the table to access the computer files. "But this is all I found," she added regretfully.

Faye read the screen over Ed's shoulder. "John Doe…dark hair, dark eyes…medium height, medium build…last seen on Mars. Well that certainly narrows it down, doesn't it? It would help if people used pictures," she added as she left to dress.

Chapter 2

Spike reached for the doorknob with one hand, his gun with the other. He would've drawn it earlier, but the hotel's hallway was much too crowded for his tastes. It was bad enough he was here at all, he wasn't about to risk calling any attention to himself. The door was unlocked, as he knew it would be, so he let himself in, his gun at the ready.

"What took you so long," a low voice purred from somewhere in the room.

Even though the room was dark, a sliver of light from between the curtains showed Spike the suite was large. He didn't need to see to know the owner of the voice, or where he was standing.

"Nice room you've got here," Spike said, taking quiet steps toward the wall separating the entryway from the main room.

With a leap sideways, Spike brought his gun around. Even in the scant light, he was able to aim straight at the heart of the man leaning casually against the wall. The man flicked the lights on and Spike smiled when he saw the sword stuck in the gun's barrel and the grinning face behind it.

"Hello, Spike."

"Hello, Vicious. Taken to hiding in the dark now?" Spike asked, his gun unwavering.

"Just didn't want you to get rusty," Vicious said, his sword steady as a rock. "Are we planning on standing here in stalemate all day? Or shall we continue this conversation in comfort?"

"After you," Spike invited, taking a slight step back to remove the tip of the sword from the barrel. Together, they lowered their weapons, but neither took their eyes off the other.

"This is…unproductive," Vicious said. "I'm calling a truce so we can get down to business while we're young."

Vicious turned his back, confident Spike would not shoot him, and led the way to the sitting area in the middle of the main room. After sheathing his sword, he raised one hand to beckon the crow from its perch on top of the curtains. The large bird circled the room once before landing on its owner's arm in a flutter of black feathers.

"So what do you want?" Spike asked, returning his gun to the holster inside his jacket. If Vicious could pretend to be civil, he could, too. He sat in the middle of the couch, resting his arms across the cushioned back as he propped his feet on the glass-topped coffee table. "I never expected to see a summons from you."

Vicious gave his bird a treat before settling himself regally in a chair across from Spike, legs crossed so that the sword's hilt lay across his lap. The display of distrust didn't bother Spike. The feeling was mutual. A lifetime ago, he would've left his gun out in plain sight, but he refused to play power games with Vicious anymore. The crow devoured the snack and sat on Vicious's shoulder, tugging playfully on his silver hair. When it realized there would be nothing more to eat, it turned its black eyes suspiciously on Spike.

"It took you long enough to decipher the fake bounty," Vicious drawled. "I've been here for nearly an hour already."

"I was busy. What do you want?" he asked, ending the ruse of pleasant conversation.

"Not what…who. And you're the perfect man for the job."

"I'm not your errand boy," Spike said. Although his voice was low and controlled, he couldn't hide the resentment in his eyes. "Get one of your lackeys to do it for you. I left the syndicate, remember?"

"No one ever leaves the syndicate," Vicious reminded him, his tone as deadly serious as his expression. "You've just been excused for a short leave of absence."

"You can't order me around, Vicious."

"But I can make it worth your while." Vicious pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and tossed it onto Spike's lap. "That's just for expenses. The real amount will come after delivery."

Spike stared at the envelope on his lap for a few seconds before picking it up. He wanted to throw it back in Vicious's face, but the temptation of woolongs was just too great to ignore. The bounty he turned in that morning barely covered the property destruction fines he accumulated to nab her. Not to mention the Bebop was nearly out of fuel, the Swordfish needed repair parts, and they had all been starving on meager rations for weeks. He just couldn't afford not to at least look. With an inward sigh, he opened the envelope.

A cashcard fell out along with a stack of 100 woolong bills. With the cash alone, Spike estimated he could buy enough food supplies to last them for months. When he realized it was an unlimited transfer card, he knew it was going to be extremely hard to turn down the job. But if he didn't, the syndicate would drag him back in like quicksand.

"Sorry, Vicious," Spike said, tucking everything back inside the envelope. "If this is just for expenses, I don't even want to know what the syndicate is up to. That much money for one guy? Sounds like a setup to me."

"No setup, Spike. You are a bounty hunter, aren't you?" Spike didn't answer, but his eyes narrowed apprehensively. "I am offering a bonefide bounty on this man." Vicious held another envelope up between two fingers and waved it slightly back and forth to tempt Spike. "We could've gone with someone else, but I thought I would offer it to you first. For old time's sake."

"Yeah, right," he said, knowing Vicious didn't have a sentimental bone in his entire body. If Vicious wanted him after the bounty, there was definitely a catch to it. But he couldn't tell how dangerous the catch might be by just his smile. After a long pause, Spike sighed. "All right, I'll bite. Who's the guy?"

"I can't say until we have an agreement," Vicious said, now tapping the envelope on the arm of the chair. "Do we have an agreement?"

Spike didn't trust the amused look on Vicious's face. Although the lips curved, there was a look of menace in his eyes. Spike looked again at the envelope still held in his hand. One job for the syndicate and they wouldn't have to worry about food or supplies for a good long time. But could he afford selling his soul for that security? Certainly that's what Vicious intended. Just the first step in getting Spike back into the fold where he wouldn't be able to escape again.

"Here's the agreement," Spike said, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. "I find your man, I take your money…and then you leave me the hell alone."

Vicious's smile grew wider. "Agreed."

"I mean it Vicious. No more contact. You don't look for me. You don't send me any more secret messages camouflaged as bounty heads. Don't even think about me. Got it?"

"An arrangement we both benefit from, believe me." Vicious stood and dropped the second envelope into Spike's lap. The crow's feathers ruffled as it bobbed on his shoulder with the movement, clinging tightly to the jacket with its sharp talons. "All the information we have is in there. I'll be looking forward to seeing just how good a bounty hunter you really are. Enjoy the room."

Spike barely heard Vicious close the door behind him. He was too shocked by the envelope's contents to realize he was now alone in the syndicate's hotel suite. He read the information three times to be sure he wasn't dreaming. The papers dropped to the floor from his shaking hands and he didn't attempt to retrieve them. He walked over to the small, well-fortified, wet bar. Amber liquid splashed onto the counter before he was able to aim it successfully into the glass.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" he asked the empty room before draining the drink in one large gulp and reaching again for the bottle.

Chapter 3

Jet's knuckles were white from gripping his book. Spike knew Jet felt him watching and was trying hard to ignore him. He didn't blame Jet for being angry. Spike just hoped their friendship wasn't completely lost.

"You're back," Jet said without looking up from his reading. When Spike didn't answer, he continued talking just to fill the silence. "So I'm guessing you either had nowhere else to go, or you need the Bebop to go somewhere else."

"Yeah."

The gruffness in that one syllable forced Jet to turn around. He squinted his eyes to make out Spike's form leaning against the wall in the shadows. "Yeah? To which?"

"Both."

Spike stepped into the light, but didn't drop down onto the couch as usual. After their earlier confrontation, he almost felt like an intruder in the ship he had called 'home' for so long. He stood, hands stuffed in his pockets, waiting for Jet's reply.

"I had this case once," Jet began, "where one guy got a little too friendly with another guy's wife. The husband tied the guy to the back of his car and dragged him from one end of town to the other. He was a mess, but wasn't hurt that bad. He ended up beating the husband to a pulp. I'm not sure which of you three looks worse."

Spike gave a weak smile and stared down at his shoes. No matter how bad Jet thought he looked, it didn't even compare to how he felt. The few hours of sleep he finally managed to get was only achieved at the bottom of a very large bottle. He was suffering through the worst hangover he could remember, ached all over from sleeping on a barstool, and felt an icy cold sense of dread for having made the deal with Vicious.

And, on top of all that, he had to face Jet after cocking a gun in his face.

"I'd offer you something to eat, but you don't look like you'd be able to stomach it anyway," Jet said, closing his book. Spike recognized the invitation and carefully set his abused body on the edge of the couch.

"You're right," Spike said. He started to run a hand through his unruly hair, but the pain was too great. He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead in his palms. Taking the weight off his neck seemed to help a little.

"Not that I've got much to offer," Jet continued, lighting a cigarette. "Faye, somehow, came back empty handed. You don't happen to know why, do you?"

Spike realized Jet knew about the bounty he'd snatched away from her. It wasn't that he wanted the money more than Faye. She just had a nasty habit of losing it on the way to the store. Mainly at the race tracks. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cashcard he earned from the bounty.

"It's all yours," Spike said, tossing it over to Jet. "Go crazy."

Jet looked at the amount and chuckled. "Rack up a few bills, Spike? There's barely enough here to gas up the Bebop enough to get to the next planet."

"Taken care of," Spike said. He slowly eased himself back on the couch and dug in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes.

"What do you mean by that?" Jet asked. "That little bounty couldn't have paid for all that with this much left over."

Spike gave up his search after he remembered finishing off his pack before leaving the hotel that morning. He groaned and laid his arm over his eyes to block the light from his sensitive eyes.

"Spike…"

"Later, Jet," Spike warned. "Just go get the food while I make my way back to the land of the living."

Jet sighed. He wasn't surprised Spike wanted to avoid talking. He'd known him for years and still didn't really know him. Theirs was an odd relationship. Living in close quarters like family, yet without any kind of family bond.

"Don't forget the meat," Spike added just before the door closed behind Jet.

"Spike!"

"Go away, Faye."

"You steal my bounty, then spend the night drinking it away," Faye accused. "That was my bounty! I am not going away until I get at least some of that money."

"Gave it to Jet to buy food," Spike said and rolled toward the back of the couch in an attempt to block her out and get back to sleep.

"What about the bounty Vicious posted? Are you going to tell me that's gone, too?" Faye asked, leaning over the couch.

"Go…away!" Spike ordered and gave her a deadly glare. Faye gasped and retreated back to the safety of her room, leaving Spike to sleep in peace.

"So, we're all gassed up, they delivered the parts we needed, and we're fully stocked with food. Are you going to tell me where we're headed? Or is that a big secret, too?"

Spike didn't turn to acknowledge Jet's question. He continued to watch the sunset across the water from his seat on the edge of the Bebop's hull. Jet sat down, but left a good five feet between them.

"I don't mind secrets, as a rule," Jet commented. "But it always helps to know where we're going before we lift off."

Spike didn't take his eyes off the smear of red and orange on the horizon as he reached into his pocket. Again, he remembered they were empty.

"Here." Jet slid a freshly opened pack and lighter over to him.

Spike gave him a sad smile. "Thanks."

They sat and smoked in silence until the last of the sun slipped underwater. Overhead, the stars echoed the twinkling lights of the city beside them.

"We're going to Earth," Spike announced, breaking the silence.

"Earth? What for? A bounty?"

Spike nodded and lit another cigarette. After sleeping all day, his hangover was finally gone, but his feeling of dread was intensifying. Once they left Mars, he would be working for Vicious, something he thought he'd never do. It was like his days in the Syndicate all over again.

"Sorry about earlier," Spike said, breaking the silence. "About the gun, I mean."

"If I knew what I did wrong, I'd apologize for it, too," Jet answered, flicking his cigarette butt into the water.

Spike thought back to their argument. He couldn't quite remember what it was that had set him off. Jet had done and said the same things he always did. But for some reason, this time Spike felt like he was being lectured. Maybe just being back on Mars had put him more on edge than usual.

"Did I ever tell you about my father, Jet?"

"Nope."

"It's because I didn't really have one," Spike said, getting to his feet. "And I didn't need you acting like one, either."

Jet's eyebrow rose as he watched Spike go back in the ship. He shook his head and gave one last look across the water before going inside himself. He was right, there were no family-like bonds in this relationship at all.

Chapter 4

"We're going to Earth!" Ed sang as she typed away at her keyboard. "We're going to Earth! We're going to get big bounty!"

"So tell us about this mysterious bountyhead," Faye said, putting her empty bowl on the floor for Ein to lick clean. "We can't help you if we don't have any information."

"That's right," Spike said. "You can't."

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you planning on hogging all the money for yourself? That's not fair!"

"That's just the way it is, Faye," he answered, reaching for the last piece of pork. "The only help I need is for everyone to stay out of my business."

"How ungrateful can a guy get!" she snapped. "I work my butt off time and time again to help you two track down bounties for chump change; but now that there's a big fish on the line, you leave me high and dry!"

"Might as well drop it, Faye," Jet warned as he stacked up the dirty dishes. "You should know by now that Spike doesn't change his mind. If he wants to work this one alone, then let him."

"You're a good one to talk, Jet," Faye called out when he disappeared into the kitchen with his armload. "I know what you'll do. You'll wait until he's left, then follow until he gets himself into trouble. Then, after you bail him out, he'll have to split it with you. Which leaves me out in the cold!"

"Faye, there is something very important I need for you to do," Spike said, pushing himself to his feet and patting his full stomach. "It's not all that hard of work, and I'll even pay you if you can pull it off."

Her eyes brightened and a smile spread across her face at the thought of what she could do with the money. "What is it?"

"I will give you 5000 woolongs if…"

"Yeah?"

"…until we reach Earth…"

"Yeah?" She was on the very edge of her seat now, anxious to earn easy money.

"…you stay the hell away from me!" Spike finished and strode off to his room, leaving a smoldering Faye and laughing Jet behind him.

A beeping alarm sounded and Jet flipped a switch to silence it. They'd come through the last hyperspace gate and emerged just outside of Earth's atmosphere. He checked the readout on the monitor and tapped in new instructions for the Bebop's piloting system. After taking a long look at the growing blue and white mass outside the window, he made his way to the docking bay.

"Earth, dead ahead," he called.

Spike looked down from the Swordfish's cockpit and gave a nod before finishing the last bit of polishing to the ship's interior. He then swung himself down, dropping cat-like to the deck.

"Any particular place you'd like to land?" Jet asked.

"North-eastern hemisphere," he answered, packing up the supplies and stowing them in the maintenance cabinet. "Any port's fine."

"So you're still not going to tell me anything, are you? You've been wound tighter than a spring since we left Mars. That's not like you. It's giving me heebie-jeebies, Spike. I don't like the feel of this. I don't like it one bit."

"That makes two of us, Jet," Spike admitted. "But to tell you the truth…this isn't just about the bounty or the money. It's just something I have to do."

"Alone, I suppose?"

"You got it."

Spike headed back to his room and took the case from under his bed. With nimble fingers and practiced efficiency, he had his gun taken apart, cleaned, put back together, and loaded before the old fishing ship landed. With a last check to make sure he was well prepared, he punched the button to open his door - only to come face to face with Faye.

"We're on Earth, Spike," she said with a sweet smile. "Do you know what that means?"

"It means you're going to take this money to the nearest race track and lose it?" he asked, holding out the promised woolongs.

Faye snatched the money from him, her eyes burning with fury. "It means you're about to hear everything I've been holding back all this time to earn these!"

Spike brushed past her and tried his best to ignore her ranting all the way to the Swordfish. She was still going strong as he swung his long legs into the cockpit. He leaned over to look down at her and waited for her to take a breath.

"You know, Faye," he said, "sometimes I wish we were married."

She was shocked silent at the announcement and stood agape, simply staring up at the mysterious dark-haired man she alternately counted as friend and foe.

"At least then," he said, reaching to close the hatch above him, "I'd be able to divorce you to get you out of my hair."

The Swordfish's engine revved even before the wings had unfolded to lock into place. If there was one place Spike felt completely at ease, it was in the sky. Even though the planet's gravity tried its best to pull at him, he rolled and swerved around obstacles and flew through tunnels and under bridges. He allowed himself a good half hour of free flying time to work out the rest of his pent up energy before having to settle down to his task.

Chapter 5

"Yeah, I heard of a guy like that," the old-timer said. "Got a place north of here in the meteor zone."

"The meteor zone?" Spike asked.

"That's a barren place where there's constant meteor activity," another old man offered.

"Not safe to fly there," his friend added. "Not unless you're an ace pilot like me.

"You were never an ace pilot!" the first one argued. "You crashed half the planes you flew!"

"That's only because there was a war going on!"

"That there was," the second one said. "A lot of fighting back then."

Spike left the three old men to reminisce and argue amongst themselves as he took his drink to the other side of the bar. He sat on a stool and shook a cigarette from his pack. Before he even got it placed between his lips, a flame danced before his eyes. He lit his cigarette and nearly choked on the smoke when he saw the face behind the lit match.

Ancient images of another lifetime flashed through his mind. A kind face with long, golden hair. Soft hands touching his face. A sad smile that spoke volumes more than words.

"Heard you were looking for someone."

He shook his head and refocused his eyes on the speaker. Although the hair was similar, the face beneath it wasn't. The bartender gave him a wink as she blew out the flame and refilled his glass.

"That's right," Spike said, returning the smile. "And I'm beginning to feel sorry it isn't you."

Her laughter filled the near empty bar. Spike found himself chuckling along with her and realized she was nothing like Julia. As beautiful and caring as Julia was, he'd never seen her this carefree.

"The name's Valerie," she said, holding out a hand.

"Spike Speigal." He shook her hand briefly, then reached again for his drink.

"Oooh." Valerie raised one eyebrow and leaned over the counter, propping her chin on one fist. "Cop or cowboy?" she whispered.

"Excuse me?" Spike asked. He leaned slightly back in his chair to escape the woman's haunting perfume, but that only gave him a better view of the chest resting on the counter.

"Since I refuse to believe I've lost my touch with men…I figure you're either a policeman or a bounty hunter. So which is it?"

Spike smiled and set his empty glass down next to her elbow. He took a long drag from his cigarette before answering, the smoke gently curling around her face as he exhaled.

"Well, it's definitely not you," he said with a lopsided grin.

She smiled broadly and ran her fingertips lightly over the back of the hand still holding the glass. Spike returned the smile and sat closer. Just as Valerie was about to lean in for a kiss, she found something smooth and hard pressed against her lips.

"Refill this and tell me how to get to the meteor zone."

Valerie looked down into the glass and then into the strange man's eyes. Although his smile was warm and inviting, his eyes were cold as ice. There was something odd about them that she just couldn't pinpoint and a cold shiver ran down her spine. She forced herself to keep the smile on her face, but stood up straight to put distance between herself and those eyes.

"The meteor zone isn't a place anyone wants to get to," she said, forcing herself to steady her hand as she poured the liquor from the bottle into his glass. "But if this guy you're looking for is there, it can only be one person. Lenny."

"So you're telling me you aren't the least bit curious as to where Spike went?"

"Nope."

Faye stormed out of the workshop and down the hall toward Spike's room.

"I can't believe he would leave any clues behind, Faye," Jet called out after her. "And you know it's none of our business. If he wanted us to know anything he would have told us already."

"Then what are these for?" she asked, leaning against the doorjam with a satisfied grin. In her hand she waved two envelopes with their names on them.

"What the…? Where did you get those?"

"They were lying on his bed in plain sight," Faye said, tossing Jet his envelope. "I knew he wouldn't keep us completely in the dark. It's probably instructions on how to pick him up once he gets in over his head."

Jet scratched his cheek as he inspected the plain white envelope with his name scrawled across it. Faye, on the other hand, ripped hers open right away. She shook out the single sheet of folded paper.

"Dear Faye," she read aloud. "I heard Mars Sky is racing at the track this week. Place 1000 woolongs on her to show for me. Spike. Why that…! He didn't even leave money for the bet!" Her face burned with anger as she crumpled the note into a tight ball and threw it across the workshop. "Forget him! He can crash his ship and rot for all I care! I'm going out!"

Jet watched Faye storm down the hall toward the docking bay. Soon the sound of her ship roared to life. He waited until she flew off and he could no longer hear the engine before carefully opening his own note.

"Jet. Use this to get whatever you want. Spend as much as you can. Spike. PS, Don't let Faye get hold of it. If they trace it to a track, they won't be too happy."

He took the cashcard out of the envelope and tapped it against the sudden ache that sprung up at his temples. He didn't have to guess who 'they' might be.

"Oh, Spike. What are you doing?"

Chapter 6

"Lenny. So that's the name he's using here on Earth," Spike said to himself as he flew in the direction the bartender instructed him. "Wonder why Vicious didn't have that bit of information?"

Spike had been flying long enough for the alcohol he consumed at the bar to wear off. He thought this day would never happen, but now that it was here, all he wanted was to get it over with. A headache was beginning to form square between his eyes with every sign of getting worse before it got better.

"Shit!"

A meteorite the size of a large dog fell just in front of the Swordfish. Spike looked up just in time to bank the ship away from another large falling chunk of rock. Flying sideways, he noticed how barren and scarred the ground below had become. No life could withstand the constant barrage of attacks assaulting the land.

"So this is the meteor zone. Should be interesting." Spike grinned with renewed energy. He loved a challenge; especially when flying a life-or-death obstacle course.

He weaved in and out between meteorites of all sizes, keeping himself aimed in the general direction he wanted to head. It was impossible to dodge them all. He had to let some of the smaller ones strike the Swordfish in order to avoid large ones that could permanently cripple the ship. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he was wrapped in a blanket of calm confidence. Letting his instincts and reflexes take over, he maneuvered easily through the shower of boulders, some of which still burned from their descent through the atmosphere.

A large mound caught his attention and he circled around it to get a closer look. It seemed like a buildup of rock and dust that had grown steadily over a long period of time.

"What the hell? How could there be anything but craters in a place like this?"

"Hey! You in the ship! Can you hear me?"

Spike's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the voice coming from his radio. He dodged a chunk of rock almost the size of the Swordfish before switching on the receiver.

"I hear you," he answered. "Who's this?"

The voice ignored his question. "There's a meteor storm on its way. You better head north while you got the chance."

"If this is Lenny, then I can't do that. You're the reason I'm here."

There was a pause before a sigh whispered through the speakers. "Then listen and listen good. Keep an eye on the top of the mountain. In a minute there will be a spray of rock from the top. Stay clear until then. When you see the hole, head straight into it. Be quick about it. I can't keep it open for long."

"Gotcha," Spike replied and swung around to give the pile of rocks a wide berth.

The spray was more like a blast. A volcano erupting, spewing dry rock and dust into the air instead of fire and molten lava. Through the debris settling at the mountain's base, he was just able to make out the hole that led inside. The Swordfish shook from the pull of gravity as Spike banked hard and spun nose-first into the heart of the mountain.

"That was some fancy flying," the voice said as Spike eased the ship's wheels onto a dimly lit landing pad.

"Thanks," Spike said and turned off the ignition. The engine whining down sounded like a weary sigh of exhaustion. With a sigh of his own, he lovingly patted the dashboard. "She's a good ship."

"Come on downstairs. I can't wait to meet the pilot."

"I'll bet," Spike said to himself as he jumped down from the cockpit. "This should be interesting."

The room was enormous. Large enough to house the Bebop with room to spare. Overhead, the entrance had closed tightly against the constant assault of meteorites. The only lighting came from a ring of small electric bulbs around the landing pad, plunging the far walls in darkness. The air was warm and close with a slight odor of dampness although the surface was dry desert.

His feet echoed across the metal floor as he made his way toward a winding stairway leading down deep into the mountain. A curious glowing substance lined the bottom of each step, making it easier to safely descend to the lower level.

"In here."

Spike followed the sound toward the only lighted doorway at the end of the tubular hallway. It looked to be part control room, part kitchen, part living quarters with dirty dishes and clothing crowding around blinking lights and display screens. A man sat in one of two command style chairs in the middle of the room, his back to his unexpected guest.

"So you must be Lenny," Spike said, leaning against the doorway. Although his arms were casually crossed, his fingertips rested on the butt of his gun in case this was a trap.

"And you must be the best damn pilot in the solar system," Lenny returned without moving from his seat. "Are you as good at shooting as you are at flying?"

Spike's eyebrows rose. Did this guy already know why he was here? Even though there was no way he could get the drop on him, Spike's fingers twitched closer to his gun. "I'd guess you could say that."

"Good. Then get over here and give me a hand," he ordered, motioning toward the other chair.

Cautiously, Spike walked closer, studying Lenny as he went. A balding old man dressed in rumpled clothes that looked a couple sizes too big, there was still a faint ghost of familiarity to him even through the scruffy beard and wrinkles. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but his fingers worked quickly over the controls before him.

"Sit down. Pick up that gun there and put on those glasses. Hurry up now, we don't have much time."

"What's going on?" Spike asked even as he followed orders. The gun sat light in his palm, small and made of plastic but a comfortable fit. When he brought the glasses to his eyes, the scenery abruptly changed and he jerked back in his seat as a rock flew passed him, barely missing his head. He looked around and realized he was outside in the middle of the meteor storm.

"You know how simulation programs work, don't you?" Lenny's voice sounded close beside him, but was nowhere to be seen in the violent landscape. "Just aim and shoot at anything falling. The big ones may need more than one hit."

Spike raised the plastic gun and squeezed the trigger. Although he wasn't sure what he expected to happen, he was a little disappointed in the way his target silently vanished. No sound of gunfire, no explosion, not even falling debris showing the rock was destroyed. Again and again he fired with the same results.

"Don't I even get to see how many points I've got?" he joked, taking out a large, burning rock with three shots.

"I know it doesn't seem that exciting, but those are actual meteors falling toward us. That gun is connected to a laser cannon outside. You move, it moves. You pull the trigger, it fires. And if the large ones aren't broken up, they could break that force field you came through and make a crater of this whole place. So try not to miss and kill us."

"Yes, sir," he answered with a wry smile. If the old man wanted to see some fancy shooting, Spike was more than willing to comply. For nearly an hour, he fired meteors of all sizes with his simulated gun, only missing a few of the smallest ones while he shot at the bigger ones. Neither of them spoke the entire time, but Spike knew his host was still there by the sound of his deep raspy breath and occasional coughing fit.

"Bored yet?" Lenny asked when there was finally a break in the falling threat.

"It's not something I'd want to do as a career," Spike admitted. His hand and arm ached from holding the gun and his eyes were tired from the constant digital stimulus from the glasses. "I can't see why you would want to live out here and have to do this all day."

"I don't," he answered. Spike heard the flick of a switch and the display before his eyes was covered with a narrow grid and small computerized words blinked at the lower corner of his view.

Taking off the glasses, he chuckled and shook his head at Lenny. "Automatic Defense Grid? Your laser has an automatic mode and you made me sweat all this time thinking we'd be dead if I missed a shot?"

"I didn't hear you complaining," Lenny said, removing his own glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Besides, it was a good test for the wireless simulator system. I'm just glad it didn't overheat. You're not a bad gunman."

"Thanks. Glad I was available to be your guinea pig." Spike tossed the gun and glasses on the console and stood to stretch his muscles. Lenny carefully set his glasses down and turned his chair so he could reach the cane leaning against a display screen. With a certain amount of difficulty, he pushed himself to his feet and hobbled over to a stuffed armchair next to a cluttered table.

"So what brings an ace pilot sharpshooter to my door?" he asked, nodding to the chair on the other side of the table.

Spike sat on the edge of the chair, his hands dangling between his knees. Now that he was here, the man he thought he'd never see again sitting casually before him, he wasn't sure of his next move. The speech planned so many years ago fled, leaving him grasping for something to say. Before he could stop it, the first thing that came to mind spouted from his mouth.

"There's a bounty on your head and I'm here to bring you in…Dad."

Chapter 7

"Say what?" Jet yelled at the communications speaker of his Hammerhead. Both his mechanical and flesh hands gripped the controls tighter, willing the momentary shock to release the hold it had on his heart. There was no way he could have heard that right.

"Bounty guy is Spike person's father person," Ed's voice repeated.

"Are you sure you looked up the right name, Ed?" Jet asked. "This Lenny guy the bartender said Spike was asking about?"

"Edward looked up Lenny name, but that's not who he is," she sang. "Spike person went to see man in meteor zone. Man is science-type person named Galen Spiegel."

"And you're sure this scientist is Spike's father?"

"Yup. Edward is positive."

Jet cursed as he rubbed the back of his head. The metal felt cool against his skin, but didn't help to ease the headache that continued to build below the surface. He didn't think anything short of a bottle of hard liquor could do that. But even that wouldn't be able to erase the feeling of betrayal that sat like a lead slug in his gut.

"Damn you, Spike," he said to the empty cockpit. "You don't let anyone close enough to catch even a glimpse of who you really are. What kind of partner…what kind of 'friend' is that?"

The Hammerhead's course banked away from the meteor zone and back toward the Bebop. His earlier plan - to help Spike whether he wanted it or not - was replaced by an uncommon hardening of the heart. If Spike wanted to act like strangers, he'd be more than willing to oblige. He'd keep the Bebop on Earth a couple days, then head to the nearest bounty away from this desolate planet. If Spike needed help, he'd just have to call and beg for it.

Jet just hoped he wouldn't need to call.

"So how'd you find me?"

Spike couldn't help hearing regret in the voice of the man known as 'Lenny' here on Earth. Heard it, but didn't believe it.

"The Syndicate found you," Spike said, standing to put distance between them; as his father had done so long ago. To keep his hands busy, he pulled out his cigarettes, walking a few paces away before lighting one. He took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke toward the ceiling. "I never really wanted to look for Galen Spiegel."

"The Syndicate? Don't tell me you're working for those blood-thirsty old crones!" Galen spat. "Once they get their hooks into you, you're as good as dead!"

"You're right," Spike answered, surprised at how calm he sounded. He studied the glowing red ember of the cigarette, watching how the shades of red danced through it with each subtle change in the unseen air currents. "But there aren't too many other jobs for an orphan on Mars, is there?"

"Orph…" The intended question was cut off abruptly as understanding dawned on the old man's face. "You're mother…Lily is…dead?"

Spike nodded as he swallowed back an unexpected feeling of pity. He took another dose of nicotine before he opened the locked and dusty memories of those dark, dreadful days.

"Shortly after you disappeared, our apartment was robbed while we were at the market. No…not robbed. Ransacked. Anything of value was gone and the rest was either broken, cut, or torn apart. Mom took me to Mao and Annie's while she went to the police to file a report." He paused to look pointedly at his father's face, which had gone a ghostly white. "She didn't even make it across town."

"My God. Lily." Galen closed his eyes and pressed his fist tight to his lips, but couldn't hold back the choked sob behind it. His other hand slammed hard on the arm of the chair before gripping it hard as if to keep it from striking again.

"You act like you might've actually cared for her." Spike regretted the spiteful tone, but reliving the painful loss of his childhood had made his nerves too raw for even the cigarette to soothe. Without an ashtray in sight, he simply dropped it to the steel floor and ground it under the sole of his shoe.

"I loved Lily," Galen said, angrily wiping the tears from his eyes. "More than she even knew. I did everything I could to make a good life for her…and you."

"And how was your disappearing act supposed to make our lives better?" Spike asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Galen breathed the sigh of a man resigned to displaying his life before St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, knowing full well he'd be getting a one way ticket south no matter how hard he pleaded his case.

"I left to save the two of you," he said. "To save you from the Syndicate. I thought if I was gone, they wouldn't bother you. I thought if they were too busy trying to find me, you'd be safe. That's how it was supposed to work." He beat his fist against the arm of his chair for emphasis.

Spike let his arms drop to his sides. The old man's reaction to the sudden appearance of his son and news his wife's death wasn't anything like Spike had imagined. And just what did his father have to do with the Syndicate? Obviously, there was more to this story than he suspected.

"Listen," Spike said, sitting back down in the chair across from Galen. "Instead of playing twenty questions for the next hour, why don't you just start from the beginning?"

"Are you still going to hand me over to the Syndicate?"

"I can't answer that yet."

"Fair enough." Galen uncovered a pack of cigarettes from the disorganized mess on the table while Spike settled back in the chair, pulling out his own. Instead of putting the rest of the pack back in his pocket, he left it sitting out on his leg. If the story was going to be as bad as he expected, he'd probably need more than one. Both Spiegels flicked their lighters, inhaled, and exhaled at the same time.

Chapter 8

Galen had a coughing fit. One that only came from years of unfiltered smoking. Spike waited patiently, although his own cigarette didn't look quite as appealing anymore. Finally, his father was able to catch his breath enough to take another drag.

"I quit after you were born," Galen said, inspecting his cigarette while he blew smoke from the corner of his mouth. "Lily said the smoke wasn't good for your lungs." He looked over at Spike's pack and chuckled. "Guess it didn't really make a difference in the long run."

"Guess not," Spike said, he rested his ankle across his knee and tapped the ash against the bottom of his heel. Questions buzzed inside his brain like bees in a hive, yet he merely sat staring at the man he'd wished dead since he was a child.

"I used to work for a research company. Do you remember that?" Galen asked. Spike shook his head. "I don't blame you. Not a very exciting job for a rambunctious young boy. Used to give your mother nervous fits every time you went off with your friends, wondering what kind of trouble you'd get into next. Anyway, our department got into some financial trouble and the company heads threatened to shut us down. I never found out which one of our team got the bright idea to contact the Syndicate for help, but suddenly we were working on side projects and had all the money we needed."

Spike nodded. He understood how it would've worked. Had helped set up similar situations himself. A little silent partnering from the Syndicate gave businesses the emergency money they needed. The problem was, the Syndicate never stayed silent for long.

"Instead of finding cures, we were working on poisons. Instead of finishing equations for affordable resources for the masses, we were creating weapons capable of destroying them. We became the Syndicate's private scientists and we didn't even know it. At least not until my breakthrough with laser technology."

"You mean like your cannon out there?" Spike asked. "The one that can turn meteorites the size of spaceships into dust? I can see why that would attract the attention of the Syndicate."

"It didn't just attract them. They became obsessed with it." Galen said. He dropped his cigarette butt into a half-empty bottle. It made a sharp hiss and then floated on the clear liquid like a dead body. Galen reached for the pack again, but merely held it, turning it over and over in his hands as he spoke.

"I wasn't allowed to leave the lab unless one of the Syndicate members went with me. Just to keep my tongue nice and quiet. I told Lily they were from the research team, but I doubt it fooled her. She hated having them in the house, so I didn't come home very often. We weren't able to speak privately to each other, so I couldn't warn her about how deep I realized the trouble we were in.

"One night, I was adjusting the coordinate program when the laser accidentally fired. It blew a hole in the side of the building large enough to fly a jet through and killed my guard. I only had a few minutes until the place was overrun with fire trucks and police, so I had to act fast. I destroyed all the research and evidence of the laser project and made it look like I'd been killed in the blast as well. Then I snuck home and told Lily everything."

"That's the night you left." Spike stated. "I remember you running around the house, throwing things in a box. And mom crying."

Galen dropped his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Lily wanted the two of you to come with me. Wherever I ended up running to. But I convinced her it would be safer to stay. The Syndicate made sure I kept her in the dark, so there was no reason you'd be in any danger. If they didn't believe I was dead, I knew they'd come after me either for revenge or the knowledge in my head. There was no reason to involve you or your mother."

"But that's not how it worked out." Spike couldn't sit still any longer. He stood in one fluid motion, tucked his cigarette pack in his pocket and walked to the control panels. The screen showed small meteorites appearing and disappearing as they neared the grid and were destroyed by the laser cannon.

"No," Galen agreed. "They must have decided to search the house for the notes I took with me. And when they realized Lily was going to the police…"

"They eliminated her," Spike finished without emotion. It was the part of the job he'd hated the most while active in the Syndicate. "Just in case she knew more than they suspected. And they were right. She knew everything and you left her alone and defenseless. You signed her death sentence the moment you opened your mouth."

Chapter 9

"I'm sorry, Spike. I…"

"Well sorry doesn't change anything!" Spike roared, whirling to face his father. All the years of pent up anger, of hatred, of betrayal…all the lonely years without a family…came exploding to the surface like a dormant volcano suddenly awakened. He'd never felt such raw emotion before, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. He felt like destroying something, like screaming, like blasting something into oblivion just like the laser cannon. He felt like crying…something he hadn't done since his mother's funeral.

"Spike…"

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Dad!" He sneered the title and kicked the chair he'd been sitting in across the room. It crashed into the far wall and landed on the floor in splinters. "You left us! You ran away with your tail between your legs and left us alone and helpless! You killed my mother!"

The gun was in his hands before he even realized what he was doing. Staring down the length of his arm, he was surprised to see how steady it was. How certain. It felt good, like a security blanket during a storm. It calmed him and his breathing came deep and even. Focusing on the tear-filled eyes he was aiming at released the rest of the tension in his shoulders.

"While you were hiding out," Spike began calmly, "I was raised by the Syndicate. While you were saving your own life, I was taking lives. You thought you were helping us? Because of you, your wife is dead and your son became the very monster you were running from. I don't see any way this story can have a happy ending."

"I do." Galen stood, leaning heavily on his cane. He looked much older than when Spike first arrived. Older, tired, and defeated. "Go ahead and shoot. Put all your anger into that bullet and pull the trigger. I'll be able to join Lily, you'll have your revenge, and the Syndicate will have their weapon. That wireless test was the last stage, so it's finally completed. All the data is in the computer over there. Give it to them so you can get started on your killing spree. I don't care anymore. My life was only important when I thought I'd have someone to share it with."

Spike lowered the gun, his rage quickly draining from his body. He felt empty. No emotions, no sentiments for the past, no hopes for the future. And he liked it this way. He felt free and unburdened like when he first broke from the Syndicate and was able to finally live his own life and do what he wanted for a change. Able to make his own decisions.

"I don't want to kill you," Spike admitted. "And I don't want to turn you or your weapon over to those vultures. I left the Syndicate years ago. I'm just a bounty hunter now, and you were a way to pay the bills and put food on the table. The only reason I came in the first place was to satisfy my own curiosity. I'll just tell them I found you dead…killed by a meteor or something…and we'll go back to the way things were. You should be safe here. Even if the Syndicate finds this hideout, you have your lasers to fight back. Take care…Dad."

Spike shoved his hands in his pockets, turned, and headed for the stairs. He heard Galen call after him, voice full of pain and tears, but he didn't look back or even pause. All he wanted was to leave and pretend this was all a bad dream. Once he got back to the Bebop, he'd apologize to Jet and never complain about him acting like a father ever again. His acting was better than the real thing. Or nothing at all.

Chapter 10

Spike's foot was on the first step when the entire mountain shook. Only grabbing the railing with both hands kept him on his feet. Galen wasn't so lucky. He was thrown forward to the floor, hitting his head on the corner of his command chair. His cane skidded to a halt next to the pile of broken chair. The gash across his forehead bled into his eyes and he wiped it away with his sleeve.

"What the hell was that?" Spike demanded. He hurried to the control panel just in time to see the grid on the screen flicker and disappear.

"The Automatic Defense Grid must have gone out," Galen said. "Help me up so I can see what happened."

Spike lifted his father into the command chair, shocked by the light weight concealed beneath the baggy clothes. He grabbed a stray rag and fashioned a make-shift bandage for the wound, tying it on like a headband to keep the blood from obscuring Galen's vision.

"The northwest cannon's out. Must've been hit from behind." He grabbed the virtual glasses and tossed them to Spike. "Keep those rocks away from us while I check some things."

Donning the glasses, Spike picked up the gun and began firing at the incoming meteorites. Most were small and disappeared with one hit.

"These puny things couldn't have made that much impact," Spike observed.

"No," Galen agreed. "My readings indicate a much larger hit a mile away. A fragment rebounded and hit the cannon. I'll have to reboot and realign it before the grid's operational again. Just let me check something first."

Spike could hear the fingers dance across the keyboard even if all he could see was rocky, pitted earth. He shot down a few more human-size boulders and scanned the sky for more. A bright twinkle caught his attention high overhead. He started to raise his hand to shield eyes, then remembered he wasn't actually standing on the surface and let it drop.

"This is bad," Galen mumbled. "This is really bad."

"Does it have to do with the burning rock heading straight for us?" Spike asked. He risked slipping the glasses down his nose to look at Galen. Immediately regretting it once he saw the panicked look on his father's face. He slid the glasses back up. "How bad is it?"

"It's going to take at least twenty minutes to get that cannon up and running again. That meteor will be here in fifteen."

"So I shoot it down with the other cannons," Spike said hopefully. "Piece of cake."

"Not exactly." Galen sighed and scrubbed the drying blood from his face. "That particular meteor is approximately a half mile wide and made of ferrite. Pure iron. My lasers would barely make a dent in something that big and solid." He paused and Spike heard more typing and shuffling at the computer. "What kind of firepower does your bird have?"

"She's got plenty when it counts."

"It counts now," Galen said. "Something this massive hitting Earth could cover the whole continent in dust for years. If you could fly up close enough to at least break the thing in two…maybe three pieces. Then I think I could handle the rest."

"You got it," Spike said, dropping the gun and glasses in the command seat. Galen grabbed his sleeve.

"Here. Take these blasted things with you." He held out the battered pack of cigarettes. "I think I'm sick enough from them already."

Spike took the pack but gave his father a quizzical look. Galen wouldn't meet his eyes. Spike's intuition was trying to tell him something, but the immediate situation didn't allow him time to dwell on it. He put the pack in his pocket and ran up the stairs to the Swordfish.

"There's no activity now," Galen's voice said from the radio. "You should be free and clear once I pop the hatch."

Spike latched the door and started the engine. The sound reverberated off the metal walls. "Ready whenever you are."

There was a pop of pressurized air and Spike lifted off, pointing the Swordfish into the sunlight streaming through the hole above. The brightness temporarily blinded him and he had to squint at the radar to keep the ship on course.

"So, Spike," Galen said conversationally. "I didn't get a chance to ask you anything about yourself. Do you have a family? Am I a…grandpa?"

Spike couldn't help but smile. "No. No wife or kids. Never really fit into my lifestyle."

"That's too bad. No matter how distant or dysfunctional, having a family is important. It's what gives you strength and the will to go on when things get tough."

"I'm beginning to understand that," Spike mumbled to himself.

The burning meteor loomed directly ahead. Spike armed his laser and aimed a blast right in the middle of the oncoming rock. The stream hit, but only a small fragment was blown from it. He had to bank hard to avoid flying through the flames and being pulled in by the iron's magnetism.

"Son of a…"

"What? What is it, Spike? Is something wrong?"

"You said this thing was a half mile wide," Spike said, adjusting the Swordfish's angle to see better. "You forgot to mention it's three times that in length!"

Spike fired relentlessly at the meteor, finally breaking pieces the size of the Bebop apart from the hard material. He circled round and round, trying to find weak spots to target. As they neared the Earth, laser fire accompanied his attacks and cleared much of the debris away.

"Damn! I'm overheating!" Spike broke from his attack maneuver, his laser refusing to fire. The meteorite was getting dangerously close to Galen's hideout. "It may be close, but I might be able to squeeze out one more shot in a minute or two."

"Don't worry about it," Galen said. "You did better than I hoped. Some of these pieces may hit, but the destruction should be contained to the meteor zone. But you better fly out of range just to be safe."

Spike pulled up and headed for clear space.

"I know I'm not your favorite person right now, Spike. But I'd like to ask one small favor?"

"I'm not telling the Syndicate where you are or about your lasers."

"It's not that. I'd like you to put a flower on your mother's grave for me. A white lily. You can do it or not, just don't tell me 'no'. I'd like to think it'll be done."

Something in his father's voice made Spike pause. He looked down at the speeding meteorite and realized what was wrong with the scene. There was no laser fire coming from the ground. A rock the size of a skyscraper was heading straight for Galen's mountain, and he wasn't fighting back.

"What's wrong with the cannons?" Spike asked, banking hard to return to Earth. He dodged the smaller pieces trailing behind the burning meteor and tried to get his own laser to respond. The display screen would only blink in warning that it hadn't had enough time to recharge.

"The cannons are fine," Galen replied.

"What's going on?" Spike demanded. "Answer me, dammit!"

There was a pause long enough for Spike to wonder if his father had turned off his radio. Then he spoke, the reception broken up by the closeness of the magnetized iron rock. "Take care of yourself, Spike. Even though I'm sure you had a hard life, don't let it discourage you from living it to the fullest. And don't dwell on the past. You probably would have hated growing up a scientist's kid anyway. I just wish there was more I could have given you."

The rest was nearly obscured by static, but Spike was able to make out four words before the meteorite hit. The shock wave and blast of dust and rock drove Spike to fly higher, away from the large hole where a mountain had been just seconds before. He circled the area, unable to believe his eyes as the mushroom cloud slowly dissipated in the wind above the enormous crater. The Swordfish's fuel indicator beeped a warning and Spike was forced to break away from the destruction to head to the nearest town.

Galen's final words echoed in his mind, clearer than the broken broadcast his ears heard. "I love you, son."

Spike wiped his eyes to clear his vision. "I love you too, dad."

Chapter 11

"…debris and dust from the meteorite is safely being contained in the zone thanks to the ion shield invented by the elusive Dr. Leonard Spiers…"

Spike didn't stand around to watch the rest of the newscast on the billboard-size television screen. He kept walking until reaching the automatic sliding doors he was looking for. Slipping through the crowd inside, he made his way to the back door.

"What are you doing here?" Faye asked, obviously surprised to see Spike at the racetracks.

"Checking to make sure you placed my bet," he answered, dropping himself in the empty seat beside her. A bell sounded and the race began. Multicolored jockeys vied for position on their mounts while the onlookers cheered their bets.

"You didn't leave me any money to place," she said, ripping up her ticket as her horse lagged behind. "Not to mention Mars Sky was a 100 to 1 shot."

"Did you place the bet?" Spike asked again.

Faye propped her chin on the railing and sighed. "1000 woolongs to show."

"And?"

"She showed. I don't know how you knew, but she did." She turned to give him an intent stare. "How did you know? Especially with such great odds?"

Spike merely smiled slyly and held out his hand. "My money."

She rolled her eyes and withdrew a stack of bills from inside her top. "Minus my booking fee, of course."

He took the money and stuck it safely inside his jacket pocket. "Of course." He stood and leaned against the railing. "I'm done here. We can leave first thing in the morning. Don't be late."

"You sure Jet wants you back? He seemed pretty steamed to me. Chopped off the wrong branch on his bonsai and tossed it overboard."

Spike pushed himself away from the railing and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. "I guess we'll see soon enough." He turned to leave but paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Black Earth to win in the next race. See ya."

Faye opened her mouth to ask why that particular horse, but Spike had already melted back into the crowd heading to place their next bets. Pulling a roll of money from her top, she hurried to join them.

The Bebop was quiet. Too quiet. There were no landing beacons and the internal lights were dimmed even though it was still early. Spike landed the Swordfish without Jet's usual clearance and made his way to the living area wondering where everyone else might be.

"Spike person is back!" Edward bounded from the shadows and attached herself to Spike's back, her long arms and legs wrapped securely around his neck and waist. Ein excitedly ran around and around Spike's legs. "Did you bring Edward a gift from Earth?"

"Sorry, Ed. I didn't get you anything," Spike said, loosening the grip around his neck so he could breathe better.

Edward scrambled onto his shoulders and leaned forward, hands searching his pockets. "Gift for Ed? Gift for Ed?"

"Edward! I said I didn't…"

"Gift for Ed!" she shouted triumphantly, holding up Galen's rumbled pack of cigarettes. Ein jumped against Spike's legs and barked.

"No! Hey, those aren't yours!" But Edward was already dancing off into the shadows with the pack as her partner and Ein close on her heels. "Since when did you start smoking?" he called after them.

"And so the prodigal son returns?" Jet asked from the kitchen doorway. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his face carefully blank.

"If I remember the story right, there was a fatted calf waiting for him," Spike said. His stomach growled at the thought of food and Spike inwardly cursed himself for not stopping for food before coming back. He gave Jet a sheepish grin. "Got anything to eat?"

"As a matter of fact, we're fully stocked. Hope you found your mark because we can't repay what all I used of that cashcard. And I doubt I'd enjoy being indebted to them, either."

"I found him," Spike said, heading for the refrigerator. He was happy to find Jet didn't skimp on the brand of beer. He tossed one to Jet and opened his own, taking a long drink before continuing. "Found him and saw him die. They won't need the money back."

Jet took down a frying pan and lit the stove's burner. "I'd sure love to hear the story some day," he said, leaving an opening for Spike without asking direct questions. He popped the top on his own can and took a drink.

"Maybe I'll tell it. Some day." Spike drained the can and grabbed another.

Edward came running in, her computer balanced precariously on her head. "Edward loves Spike's gift!" she said, giving him a tight hug around his waist. Spike juggled the beer can but it slipped just out of his reach and landed on the floor. The spray issuing from a small hole in the can was quickly lapped up by Ein.

"I'm glad you like the cigarettes, Ed. But you can let go of me now."

"Not the smoky sticks," Edward corrected. She unwound her arms and held the computer screen up for Spike and Jet to see. "The computer chip in the bottom."

"What the…" Jet began as data and schematics on laser cannons flitted across the monitor.

"Not my fault, Vicious," Spike said into the computer's video camera. The face on the screen was red with anger. "I found him like I was hired to do. If you want to go hunting for his remains, be my guest. They've got to be somewhere at the bottom of that crater."

"How do I know you didn't just let him go?" Vicious asked from between clenched teeth.

Spike loved seeing his nemesis unnerved. It happened so seldom while they were in the Syndicate together, Spike always made a special effort to make it last.

"I'll admit the thought crossed my mind." More than crossed, Spike thought, but left it at that. Vicious didn't need to know everything. "But even I can't compete against the forces of nature."

"What about his invention?"

"What invention would that be, Vicious?" Spike asked innocently. "The information you gave me didn't say anything about any invention. Was that something I should have been told about?"

Vicious glowered from the monitor, but Spike only smiled back. He knew Vicious would never willingly give out classified information about his father's laser research or his mother's arranged demise. Both of which Spike was certain Vicious knew about even when they were comrades. He wasn't about to give the Syndicate any more than a routine report on a bounty's death. He wouldn't even let Vicious see how his father's passing affected him. To all witnesses, Galen Spiegel was just another bountyhead.

"I did your dirty work," Spike said. "Now it's your turn to hold up your end of the deal. Goodbye, Vicious." Without waiting for a reply, Spike pressed the button to end transmission. The furious look that disappeared from the screen made Spike laugh out loud.

"That guy gives me the creeps," Faye said, entering the room. She sat on the edge of the couch and lit a cigarette. "How can you find him funny?"

Spike just shook his head and got to his feet, stretching his arms high over his head. "I'm going out. Tell Jet to meet me at a bar called Losers. He'll know the one. And be sure to let him know I'm in a storytelling mood."

Faye followed him down the hallway. "Where are you going? Can I come, too? The tracks are closed and I'm bored to tears."

"I've got something to do alone first," Spike said, lighting a cigarette of his own. "But you can come later and listen in if you feel like it. There's no happy ending, but it's a hell of a tale."

Spike hadn't been to his mother's grave since officially joining the Syndicate. It felt wrong to face her when he knew there was blood on his hands. He always felt ashamed that he hadn't lived up to all she'd hoped for.

He counted the flowers one last time before entering the cemetery. One white lily for every year since his father left. He'd considered buying another bunch of roses as an apology from himself, but didn't want to intrude on his father's dying request. He'd wait and bring his own flowers the next time he visited…which he promised would be much sooner than his last.

Shifting the bundle to his other arm, he surveyed the tombstones, trying to remember exactly where his mother was buried. He knew it was near one of those large, crying angel statues, so he headed for the first one he saw.

A glimpse of white caught his attention. As he neared, he realized it was a flower, barely visible at the corner of the large stone. He walked around to the front and stopped dead in his tracks. Etched deep into the granite was the name Lillian Ann Marie Wickstrom Spiegel. And below it was a single white lily.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Note_**

 _Thanks so much for reading "In a Sentimental Mood"! Sorry I didn't have it separated into chapters, but I didn't know how to do it when I first posted this, and when I figured it out, I didn't want to mess with it. I'm not exactly sure how old this story is, because it was originally written with pencil and paper and transferred from computer to computer a few times. I just know it's older than 2009._

 _I absolutely love Cowboy Bebop! I love the characters, the way the backstories are revealed piece by piece throughout the series, the artwork, and especially the music! Yoko Kanno and The Seatbelts are amazing! The music is like a separate character and essential to the plot._

 _Much love,_

 _D_


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